


Six Different Fantasies

by redluna



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Bloodplay, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redluna/pseuds/redluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fantasies that each member of the Inception team has had and, regardless of how embarrassed they might be, it always works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Different Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on Inception Kink for [this prompt here](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/20822.html?thread=51754582#t51754582).

**Dom**

Dom has long since accepted the fact that the issue of his sex life has become a source of gossip amongst those he works with. There are some who prefer never to think about that, thank you very much, and you'd right to hear that spoken in Arthur's cool, crisp tone. To be fair, it seems like a good amount of people think he's gone celibate, but he's surprised by just how many of those people think he can only get off to thoughts of Mal.

He would never be able to do that, not anymore. All of his memories of Mal, even the happy ones, are tinged with a sorrow so sharp that all of his wounds are ripped open as one. And, besides, focusing on one of his memories of Mal for such a purpose makes him feel as if he would be tainting it somehow.

So he would mainly summon random girls into his fantasies if felt tempted enough to get off, which was rare enough as it was.

Or, at least, that's what he had done before Ariadne.

Ariadne took him by complete surprise right from the beginning. She picked up all the minute details about dream share with a quickness he'd never seen. And then she started to _challenge_ him. She wasn't like Arthur, who was content to trust that he could keep Dom together long enough to get through. No, she stood her ground, demanding to know what he was trying to keep hidden from her. He was slight terrified how difficult he found it to deny her just about anything.

Terrified...and more than slightly drawn in.

He might assume the role of a leader more often than not, but he would be lying if he called himself a dominate person. And Ariadne was dominate, there was no doubt about that. It made Dom wonder what exactly she could convince him to do for her.

He was thinking such a thing over on one of the nights when he was alone in the warehouse. Or, more precisely, he was thinking of what it would be like if he wasn't alone. 

He could imagine Ariadne sitting in the chair across from his desk, slowly uncrossing her legs while keeping her eyes fixed on him. She was wearing a skirt in his mind, although he had never actually seen her in one, and she reached under it now, hooking her thumbs in her underwear to pull them down. She kicked them off to the side of her chair once she was done, eyes never leaving Dom.

"Cobb." She didn't say anything else, but she didn't need to. The firmness in her voice and the way that she spread her legs said it all for her.

Dom knew the floor of the warehouse would probably be pretty unforgiving as he dropped to his knees, but since it was only a fantasy he didn't quite care. He was more concerned with imagining how soft and warm Ariadne's thighs would feel when he pushed them apart, and all the different sounds he could wring out of her when he licked into her. Or maybe he would leave his fingers to press inside of her while his tongue focused on her clit. He thought she might like that better, being able to control her own pleasure by how hard she could push down onto his fingers.

"Cobb?"

Dom's head jolted up, able to feel his whole face filling up with heat as he saw Ariadne standing there in the warehouse takeout boxes in hand. She laughed as she approached, setting the containers on his desk. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said. "I thought you heard me coming."

"No, it's...um..." Dom was painfully aware of how hard he had become in his pants and looking at Ariadne right now really wasn't helping. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh." A small furrow appeared on Ariadne's brow. "Alright?" She plopped down in the chair across from his desk as he dashed off without another word, snagging one of the boxes and popping open. "Well that was weird," she muttered.

Dom, meanwhile, managed to make himself come in under a minute.

**Ariadne**

Ariadne wanted to point out before anyone could say anything that she knew just how icky it was. There are plenty of girls who fantasize about their professors, but that's with ones like Mr. Argyros, the far too attractive Greek professor. No one would ever think of looking at Miles in that way. No one, apparently, except Ariadne.

It makes her beyond grateful that no one is capable of reading her mind and that the only people who could probably come close to it have already given her all the subconscious security she needs to lock such secrets away where they belong. Because Miles is not only old enough to be her grandfather, for Christ's sake, he's also the father of Mal and the father-in-law of Dom, and that just makes for a giant can of worms that she shouldn't even want to go near.

But, in her mind, there are no such boundaries.

She always tries so hard to focus on other things when she has her fingers pressed knuckle deep inside of her or is working furiously at her clit. She would only let herself give in when she was just so desperate to come that she didn't care anymore.

Then she can think about what it would be like to be sitting on Miles's desk, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he moves inside her. With age comes experience so she imagines that he would probably know how to start his thrusts just slow enough to drive her mad before pounding into her in earnest.

It isn't until then that she pictures him pressing his lips to her ear and saying, "So good, Ariadne," in the same proud, fond tone he uses after she shows him one of her new designs. And that is always when she let's herself give way at last with a small cry.

It takes her a week afterwards to be able to look Miles properly in the eyes again and even longer for the back of her neck not to heat up when he praises her work.

**Yusuf**

If anyone knew about the kinkier side of life then it was Yusuf. He might not seem the type, but, really, it wasn't like all the people in his dream den went down for the most kosher of dreams. And a fair amount of them were inclined to gab about it afterwards. It made Yusuf glad that his product had worked so successfully, but there were sometimes when he really didn't want to hear a word of what they were saying. (Some fantasies were better kept in one's own mind, honestly.)

He got the feeling that most of the people he knew expected to have some pretty wild fantasies since he could hook up almost whenever he wanted. Even Ariadne had nudged him in the side once, winking, when they had to create a whole sexualized scene for a mark.

But, honestly, Yusuf's own fantasies have always been pretty simple. All he ever had to do was think of his wife, Alath, of the way she would laugh when he hoisted her up onto the counter, her eyes teasing even as he pushed inside of her.

Now, however, things have gotten a little...odd.

Because now Alath is pregnant, deep enough in for it to be more of a heavy bulge than a delicate swell. She would complain about it often, rubbing at her back with a groan or begging Yusuf to massage her ankles, but Yusuf was finding it difficult to look away from the expansion of her stomach.

Of all the kinks in the world, he would have to settle on this one.

He managed to hold out until he was on a job. It's only then, back in his hotel room, that he takes his cock in hand and let's the images slip out from the back of his mind.

It's nothing too extreme at first. His mind puts Alath on the bed, legs spread wide as he curls his tongue inside of her. Imagining the way she would tug at his hair is almost enough, but not quite. So, as he's teetering towards the edge, he thought of what it would be like to actually push inside her, hearing her breathy moan in his ear.

He felt guilty about how quickly he came from such an image until he came back home to have Alath drag him inside by the collar. " _Finally_. You are never going to imagine how horny I am, Yusuf. You better not say anything about this being weird because... Why are you laughing?!"

**Eames**

Eames had come a long way from the scrawny little bugger he'd been back in the days of sixth form. A career in the Queen's service was a transformative experience, after all, especially when it was one as creative as his had been. So, even he wasn't the tallest bloke out there, he still managed to look rather intimidating with his broad shoulders and obvious muscle. The tattoos certainly helped too.

The only downside to this was that everyone seemed to assume that he'd be the dominating sort. And, to be fair to the masses, that was often the case. He enjoyed being able to take control of someone else's pleasure. It was quite the lovely power rush, to be honest.

Still, there were times that he wanted to reverse those roles. Granted he had to be able to trust the person enough for it, but he enjoyed the thought of it. To be under another person's control solely so that the other person could bring both of them exactly what they wanted. Hell, how was he _not_ supposed to want that?

He had tried to explain it once to a boyfriend of his, only to have the man laugh right in his face. He thought it was a joke apparently, unable to even wrap his mind around why a guy like Eames would even want to bottom.

It went without saying that the relationship hadn't lasted long after that.

But Eames thought that things might be different with Arthur. The point man certainly challenged him enough out of the bedroom, after all, so it shouldn't be too difficult to cross the two over. And he trusted Arthur, probably more than the other man even realized.

He managed to keep such thoughts carefully shelved away, though, until they started working a job that required Arthur to bulk up. Eames had nearly doubled over laughing at first because, yes, Arthur did have muscle but it was all the lean sort. He actually tried to volunteer himself for the job after he pointed this out, but Arthur's eyes had just flashed and he stiffly informed Eames that there would be no need.

Eames remained incredulous until Arthur strolled casually into the warehouse halfway through the job in a t-shirt and jeans (which was weird enough as it was) and looking like he had swallowed Miracle Grow. His shirt was straining across his chest for Christ's sake!

Eames didn't spit out his coffee, but it was a very near thing. Arthur was probably looking at him smugly, but Eames couldn't even tell because his mind had started to constrict around a channel of pure want.

"Excuse me," he muttered, all but leaping out of his chair. 

The bathroom was probably too close to the rest of the warehouse for it be safe for Eames to be having a wank in unheard, but he was really beyond caring right now. He did manage to bite down on his knuckles, though, as he wrapped his other hand around his cock.

All he could think was Arthur wrestling him down to the floor. Because he wouldn't submit without fighting it first and he got the feeling Arthur would be alright with that. He would find a way to wrangle Eames into a hold anyway, probably holding him right there, pinned down to the floor while he took him.

It wouldn't exactly be ruthless (Arthur was only cruel with those he despised) but it would be rough, something that would leave him able to feel Arthur inside him for perhaps a week. And Arthur would want that, would be whispering filthy things in Eames' ear the whole while, reminding him of just how very Arthur's he was.

Eames came with a muffled shout, his head slipping away into a foggy space that made him take a full minute to realize his knees had gone weak.

He cleaned himself up as best he could, but there was no way to hide how flushed his cheeks were or the wobbliness in his stride. Not from Arthur's sharp eyes.

Which was why he wasn't too surprised to find himself being texted an address the instant work was over for the day.

**Arthur**

Arthur would like to clarify, for the sake of the record, that he didn't have a vampire fetish. God, he wasn't like those teenagers that literally swooned over each Twilight release. (He had gotten a bit imaginative once while reading _Dracula_ but that was when he was fifteen and he will gut you for bringing it up.)

So, no, he didn't feel a rush of excitement when he learned that the job would be requiring Eames to forge a vampire. The whole thing was actually so ridiculous that it was hard to do anything except roll his eyes over it. Granted, their mark is at least a woman who swears by the Anne Rice canon, so Arthur does allow her a little bit of grace. He had seen the grand gothic manor that Ariadne has been designing (complete with graveyard), however, and that kind of thing made it hard to take anyone seriously.

Usually, he would have done a few test runs with Eames, just to make sure that there aren't any flaws in his forge, but their schedule was too tight to allow for that. Dom had managed to go down with Eames anyway and he assured Arthur that the forge was up to snuff. Besides, it wasn't like Eames was actually going to have to be biting anyone.

Or at least that was what he had thought. Because right now Eames was dipping down to sink his teeth into the exposed skin of the mark's neck.

Arthur should be cursing or coming up with a fitting lecture for Eames later, because this is not the kind of thing you do without practice. But there's something about the image that makes his mind stall. 

He's heard about how vampirism is supposed to be erotic (of course he's done his research) but he never really got it. I mean, how could someone sinking their teeth into your neck be in any way hot? But seeing it all in action is something entirely different. To be under someone else's control that completely, to offer yourself up like that, has to take a great level of trust. And that, more than anything, appeals to Arthur.

Or, at least, that's all it is until Eames raised his head, teeth barred, and Arthur can see the blood smeared all around his mouth and across his teeth. God _damn_ that should not be attractive, but the sight of the blood made Arthur's adrenaline start pumping, making him shudder.

They get the information they need, of course, and all dart away from the scene of the crime afterwards. So the way Arthur flies out of the hotel room like a bat of hell really doesn't stand out that much. 

Driving with a hard on, however, was remarkably hard and he's grateful for when he take care of it in the dim light of the underground parking garage of his own hotel. He tried not to think of how he was able to get off just by imagining Eames licking at a cut on his neck, his teeth stained with blood.

He didn't think about it again (or tried not to) until one day when he's in the bathroom with Eames and the man cursed as he nicked himself with his razor. Arthur's tongue got to the spot before Eames' fingers could, licking until he's satisfied that the blood has stopped welling up.

When he pulled back, Eames was looking down at him with dark eyes. "You've been holding out on me, darling," he rumbled.

And there came the shudder again.

**Saito**

Saito would never call his sexual appetite wild, but then he has never constricted it to one woman. The sex he has his wife is the tender, familiar kind you can only have someone you have been with for quite some time. And he respects his wife, he truly does. He even loves her. But when he feels the urge for something else he finds away to have it.

Hence the need for his mistresses. He makes sure such things only happen in private, set aside places since he would never dare to expose his wife to the poison of the media. He never voices any qualms when she takes her own lovers either. It seems ridiculous to invoke the old double standard upon her in this day and age. Besides, constricting her to an empty bed seems pointlessly cruel.

But then he catches one of his wife's latest toys--a pretty thing, easier to please--being pressed up against the stone wall out by the pool by one of his associates, mouth open on a wordless scream as he's pounded into. It reminded him of the looks he would sometimes see exchanged between Arthur and Eames or the lingering touches that always seemed to suggest more.

He calls off his meeting with his latest mistress that night, taking himself in hand instead while the images from earlier that day play in his mind, if only a little edited. He wouldn't have taken the boy up against a wall, for instance, at least not at first. The boy looks like the type that needs to be coaxed into things first, so Saito thinks he would like to have him on the bed first, hands tied so he has to rely on his pleasure coming solely from his partner. It doesn't seem like it will take much work to make him beg.

It's imagining his wife stepping in as well, however, grinding herself down onto the boy's face to take what she wants that makes him spill out across his hand with a low groan.

And when he whispers his plans to his wife over breakfast the next morning her answering smile is absolutely wicked.


End file.
